Punisher One-Shots
by EmilyAdder
Summary: A series of Punisher one-shots (What if Frank and Karen shared an apartment (and adopted a puppy) au)
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! I know it's been a while, a long while, since I've posted, I've been busy with university, but I've been meaning to write some Punisher one-shots and I thought I'd post a couple to get back in the game

Hope you all enjoy!

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Frank came home, covered in blood, to the dog yipping at his heels.

"Down." He waved vaguely at it as he set his guns down on the kitchen counter and removed his vest with a groan.

"Frank- Jesus, again? Is any of it yours?" Karen said as greeting as she rushed in from her office, that they'd set up in the dining room.

"I'm fine, relax." He shrugged, taking a second to stretch his shoulders, and Karen sighed.

"Alright. I made soup since I didn't know when you were getting home. Do I want to know whose blood that is?" She asked as she went to the fridge, pulling out a container of soup she'd saved.

"Probably not." He took it from her gently to reheat it himself. "What're you doing up so late?"

"Working. I have a story due first thing tomorrow, and I can't pin down my hook."

"Get to it then." He nudged her away, and she rubbed his arm before going back to her office to work.

She could hear him putting his guns away through the wall between her office and what had been a third bedroom, now turned into Frank's Punisher room.

She barely heard him come in a half hour later, save for the quiet sound of him eating, as he looked over the evidence she'd gathered on her story wall.

"Your story's gonna be wrong by morning."

"Is that so?" She said, half in a daze as she concentrated on her work.

"He's dead."

She looked up. Frank was calmly eating his soup, blood washed off now as he looked at a picture of the primetime news producer she'd been preparing an exposé on, covering his child prostitution habits and tendency to have people's lives ruined to keep his secrets.

"What do you mean he's dead?" She already knew the answer.

"I got him and a few others at some shitty party they were throwing. Some big deal or something, celebrating with some 14-year-old girls. Girls are talking to the police now."

"God damn it Frank." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"You angry I got a shithead like that off the streets?"

"No, I'm frustrated that now because he's dead this exposé goes from dethroning a powerful man who's done a lot of harm to preying on the legacy of a media titan, trying to smear him after his death now that there's no risk."

"You got your evidence, you did all the work. Publish anyway. Just… rephrase it a bit. Say you're reminding folks that the world is better off without him."

She sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Make some coffee?"

"You got it ma'am." He left to the kitchen, and she sighed with a soft smile as she got back to work rewriting her article.

Three hours and several drafts later, she looked up to see Frank sitting in the chair in the corner, scrolling through his phone calmly.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" She asked, pushing her hair out of her face.

He lowered his phone to his pocket, settling into the chair. "Nah. Adrenaline, you know? Anyway, I thought you might need help." He shrugged.

"Alright. Read this, see how it feels." She rolled her chair back, and he stood to lean on her desk, muttering the words to himself as he read over the article.

"Looks good to me. A bit easy on him, but they won't print you if you go harsher, right?" He half-joked.

She let out a half-chuckle in response. "Right. I'll take it like that, get it in tomorrow first thing."

"You mean today first thing? It's 2 in the morning already."

"Tomorrow only becomes today when I've slept." She stood, closing her laptop. "Night Frank."

"Night Karen." He followed her out as far as the living room, and let her go on to bed while he looked through the news a little longer, checking the coverage of his night's work to make sure he hadn't been spotted.


	2. Chapter 2

Karen had a day off, and Frank wasn't punishing until later that night, so they decided to spend the day relaxing for once, at Karen's suggestion.

They'd spent an hour arguing about what movie to watch, but settled on an animated movie they'd both seen plenty, just to give them something to have on so they could calm down.

The dog was on the couch between them, and they'd intermittently scratch its head, so between the two of them it felt more than content to lay there and soak up affection.

They heard something at the door, and Frank turned the volume on the tv down a little, not turning it off.

"What-" Karen began to speak, but Frank held up a hand to silence her, and unhooked a gun from the underside of the coffee table.

She understood, and moved against the wall, sheltered from any fire coming through the door by the closet on the other side of the wall, and got her pistol from behind the tv.

Frank edged towards the door, posture strong as he shifted, betraying his marine training.

The door opened, and the dog moved past Frank, barking happily as its tail wagged, and Frank sighed as Micro came in.

"Some guard dog you are." He picked up the dog as Karen came into the entry.

"Hey Micro."

"Hi Karen, Frank. Expecting company?" He nodded at the guns.

Karen put hers away as Frank lowered his. "Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks Karen. I just need to talk to Frank for a bit."

"About what?" Frank asked as he put the gun back under the coffee table, and Micro followed him in.

"Hang on, hang on. Is this Punisher business?" Karen asked as she got herself a drink.

"Yeah." Micro nodded.

"In here." Frank led Micro to the gun room to talk.

Karen finished her first drink and made herself a second, almost finishing that one as well by the time Frank and Micro came out again.

"Is there a reason we had to talk in there?" Micro asked, gesturing to the room behind him.

"It's soundproofed. Neighbours can't hear, and neither can I." She explained.

"Makes sure if I get caught she doesn't go down too. Plausible deniability and all that." Frank added, sitting next to her.

"Alright. I'll get going, see you tonight Frank." Micro waved, leaving for the door.

"Bye Micro!" Karen called to him before the door shut, and she looked at Frank. "Long night tonight?"

"Yep." He sighed, stretching.

"Alright. I'll have food ready for you when you get in. Don't expect me to be awake again though."

"I won't." He smiled slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

Frank came home covered in blood again, this time during the middle of the day, carrying three guns strapped to his back and a plain plastic bag.

"Jesus. What is this?" Karen gestured to the blood on his face.

"Yakuza." He set the bag on the counter. "Had a restaurant to cover their drug sales. Took 'em out."

"And while you were there-" Karen gestured to the large bag.

"I figured you'd be hungry." He shrugged.

"You're lucky I am." She sat up a bit. "You hurt?"

"Nah. Just some cuts." He waved her off. "I'll be back soon, dish it up?"

"You got it." Karen stood, and Frank left to go patch himself up.

He had a bad cut on his chest, bad enough that it was painful to try and put a shirt back on, so he left his shirt off as he came out. Karen was dishing up their plates, and he sat to the kitchen island.

Her laptop was open, and he looked over what she was up to.

"What happened to your chest?" She sighed, and he recognized the concern under her exasperation.

"Shrapnel got inside the vest, it didn't go deep. I'll be fine. What's all this about?" He asked as he scrolled through the pictures on her screen.

"A co-worker wanted help. She's trying to pick her wedding cake design, has to know by tomorrow and her fiancée is working the whole time. I know them both, I've used her fiancée as a source in the hospital, so she figured I'd be able to lend an impartial third set of eyes." She set the plate of food down in front of him.

"Thanks." He nodded, digging in, and she sat next to him, turning the laptop back to face her as she took a few bites.

After a few minutes of silently eating, he pointed at the screen. "That one'd work."

"You have advice on wedding cakes?" She looked at him in surprise.

"Hey, I had a great wedding. Shit, my wife got me to plan most of it."

"No she didn't." She smiled a bit, and he chuckled.

"Nah, but I did about half, most of it we did together. Cake like that won't fall apart, and the flowers aren't all weird and shit, you know?" He gestured to the picture again.

"Sure. Want me to pass on the cake advice from my roommate or from the Punisher?" She teased.

He smiled. "Nah, just from me is fine. Which one were you thinking?"

She scrolled down and showed him a similar one, and he nodded a bit as they kept eating.


End file.
